


You just want to buy some gloves

by CravenWyvern



Series: DS Extras [24]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, Gnaw Event Au, M/M, Return of my rarepair, Scandal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15228801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CravenWyvern/pseuds/CravenWyvern
Summary: So you're minding your own business, shopping for some heavy duty gloves, when BAM!You spot a potential scandal.This was not what you were looking for.





	You just want to buy some gloves

**Author's Note:**

> Idk if ill continue this and im sorry for my utter lack of knowledge for Victorian era shit

Wilson P. Higgsbury was a scientist, a well respected doctor (most of the time), a professional with documents and certificates that said that he was, indeed, said professional, and he held himself to rather high standards (again, most of the time).

He was most certainly not a voyeuristic pervert.

So when he accidently peeked around the alley corner to find out where that fur merchant had gone, his stall empty of his presence and the only indication being the soft mumbles of conversation a little further back behind ugly brick walls, Wilson P. Higgsbury had unfortunately stumbled upon a sight a man of his status, which was quite low at the time, would absolutely take diabolical glee into using as blackmail.

Seeing a rather hated man of higher caste, some rich mansion owning idiot who threw his wealth about with parties and looked down his nose at practically everyone, be pressed up against the dirty wall and having the most embarrassing of faces on him while a lowly merchant had his way with him was really, really not what he wanted to be seeing this fine, cloudy and rather grey looking day.

Wilson had enough sense to not make a sound, zipping back behind the wall and clenching his jaw as the blood rushed to his face because good lord that was _indecent_. And it certainly wasn't what he ever expected to see in this little, ugly sea port town.

The richest man in this ruined village getting smothered with kisses by a man who sold pelts and furs, who looked as if he needed a good washing? How scandalous!

Hmmm...how scandalous indeed.

A nasty little thought caught him, sending a thin sneer over his face, but that was quickly interrupt by-

Alright, alright he was going back to the stall. He never, ever, wanted to hear that rich asshole make a sound like that ever again.

Hell, he wished he could pick the memory of what he saw out of his head, no matter it's worth! It thankfully didn't make him hot nor bothered, but it certainly made his face warm and full of discomfort.

They were certainly having a good time, now weren't they?

Having to wait at the stall, wondering if what he wanted to buy was even worth the trauma he now possibly had. But thick leather gloves, slightly scaled and strong enough protection against acids, was hard to come by and Woodie was good at finding that sort of thing.

Half mermed werepigs were terrifying to think about, and to know the man hunted them down just to sell for a red mark or so was astonishing. It was a little odd he seemed so fixated on never selling beaver hide though. 

Wilson found it taking a little longer than he thought, and he was grateful that the street was particularly empty and that nobody was around to wonder why he was just standing there, waiting. 

It couldn't possibly take this long, could it? That rich fellow was old, quite older actually, and Woodie looked hale but he was up there in age too, they couldn't possibly be able to-

His thoughts were jarred loose when the fur merchant in question turned that particular corner, looking a little out of breath and adjusting his clothing, bundling up his ginger hair to tie up once more into a ragged mess. He started upon seeing Wilson there, but the smile on his face was sincere and he immediately fell back into his routine, merchant talk and well mets all around. 

Wilson stumbled a bit on his pleasantries, memory doing him a disservice because the image in his head wouldn't go away, but then catching sight of the slight marks on the mans exposed neck almost did him in and made him turn to the side and cough, quite loudly, attempting to not choke on his own words.

Woodie had the decency to raise an eyebrow and look worried.

“Dr. Higgsbury, are you feeling well? You've been looking a little pale there, getting sick, eh?”

The accent was thick there, a little hard to decipher, but Wilson waved the worries away, attempting to smile and knowing it came off more like a very painful grimace. 

“I'm fine, quite fine actually, just a bit of dust in the air. Now, those leather gloves, you do have them, yes?”

Woodie nodded, turned about to sort through the mess of his stall, pelts and furs and clothing items, and seeing him move about exposed the hints of bites on his neck even more. 

Hickeys, of all things, and didn't these two know an ounce of decency, or at least a bit about keeping low? Wilson has had no such experience himself, but being around the upper crust as physician has made sure he's gotten his own eyeful, snooped a few scandals here and there, and most times that was hard work! People hid their secrets well, especially when they were more playing a game than actually courting each other.

Perhaps this was sloppy work because it was such a small, unnoticeable seaside town. Perhaps nothing would come of such a scandal getting out.

Or, maybe, it would cause a few big waves, popular gossip, and then fade out as quickly as it had arrived.

Either way, while Wilson usually didn't let his lips get loose with such things, perhaps a hint or two in an inn or tavern wouldn't hurt. From what he's heard, that old man was a menace in the social circles, and not very well liked.

Too bad Woodie would be in the crossfire, but that was how it was in politics and caste standings. Never good to go above your grade, that was what Wilson knew of.

When Woodie handed over the gloves, big, thick things that he could already imagine using for his more experimental concoctions, Wilson dutifully handed over the marks and almost automatically tried to tip his hat, of which he did not actually have. Attempting to disguise the gesture as an awkward wave, he was able to thank the man and walk a few steps before his better nature got the best of him and he turned back to the slightly surprised man, the merchant not really expecting more words out of him.

“It might be best, my good fellow,” here he cleared his throat, hoping he was not coloring and trying to keep a very serious, very straight face, “-if, perhaps, you exercise caution, from here on out.”

That just made Woodie more confused, and Wilson floundered a moment before raising a hand to indicate around his own neck, his voice actually not squeaking in his nervousness for once.

“Matters of the personal and private sort should, perhaps, be done in both personal and private places, not just around the corner of the public.” A little thick and blunt, but after a moment the merchant seemed to get what he was saying, hand going to his own neck for a moment before his face changing into an expression Wilson had not expected.

The man laughed, loud and boisterous, a little surprising, and wiping tears out of his eyes Woodie gave him a condescending smile and shake of his head.

“Don't worry your head, doctor, got it all planned out and whatnot.” He made a shallow wave, as if a shooing gesture instead. “Mind your own business, keep your nose on your face, and no news will reach ya.”

Wilson hesitated a moment, the hint of a threat in the mans laughing voice, and then nodded silently, turning on his heel to go back to his own lodge.

Well, perhaps now he'd have to think about what to do with this information a little more carefully. He certainly didn't want to be caught up in the mess, absolutely not, that would ruin his reputation!

A frown set on his face, the usual scowl that easily distinguished him. Well, so much for that then.


End file.
